


Tyra and Tami in Five Short Chapters

by Kass



Series: Friday Night Lights fanworks [4]
Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:45:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/pseuds/Kass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Tami Taylor got invested in the success of Tyra Collette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tyra and Tami in Five Short Chapters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [distira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/distira/gifts).



### 1.

Tami hasn't even unpacked her breast pump, her box of books, or her coffee mug from home when her door flies open.

"I don't actually start until tomorrow," she calls apologetically from beneath her desk where she's trying to force a surge protector into its socket. The prongs are slightly bent, or something; it doesn't want to go in.

"Got one for ya anyway," says a male voice, and then the door closes.

Who was that -- was that Larry Hildebrand? Tami isn't sure. When she emerges from her desk well, the first thing she sees is legs. She looks up and -- now this should not be a surprise, in retrospect -- it's Tyra Collette. Standing just inside Tami's office door, arms crossed, working a piece of chewing gum the way some of the coaching staff chew tobacco.

"Now, you know that isn't allowed," Tami says, and holds out her hand.

"Excuse me?"

"The gum," Tami says. Her hand's still sticking out there.

Tyra looks faintly horrified. "I'm not gonna put it -- where's your trash can?"

"I am the mother of a two month old," Tami says. "Nothing that comes out of your mouth can possibly faze me."

Tyra cracks a smile. "Yeah, okay."

Having located the trash can amidst the boxes, Tami extends the trash can, and Tyra drops her wad of gum inside.

"Sit," Tami says, gesturing toward the couch. "If you can find space."

Tyra perches on the edge of the couch, smoothing her hands down her denim skirt.

"It wasn't the gum that got you hauled in here," Tami guesses.

"He caught me sneaking out to Jess Tennison's car," Tyra admits.

"And what exactly were you going to do with Jess Tennison?"

Tyra's already shaking her head. "Nothing like that," she says hastily. "We were gonna skip first period, that's all."

Tami raises an eyebrow.

Tyra shudders theatrically. " _No_ , Mrs. Taylor," she promises.

Tami believes her, but she gives Tyra her steeliest glare anyway. "Skipping first period isn't going to get you into college."

"That isn't exactly where I'm headed."

Tami raises an eyebrow and waits.

"I'm a Collette." Tyra says it with some defiance, but Tami wonders -- is she hearing some defeat, too?

"I don't recall hearing anything about Collettes being barred from the SAT." It's a specious response, and it gets exactly the response Tami's looking for: rolled eyes and an exasperated laugh.

"Nobody in my family goes to college," Tyra says. "And you know what my sister does."

Tami does know, but she manages to school her face in showing only professional interest. "Then you'll be the first."

"Sure," Tyra says. She leans back and crosses her legs. She's checked out of the conversation.

Tami sighs. "Don't do it again," she says. "Get to class."

"Yes ma'am," Tyra says, and makes her way to the door.

### 2.

Snick, snick, snick goes the peeler against the carrot Tami's about to chop for their salad. Right now it's the only sound in the house. Julie's out; Gracie's napping; and Eric's watching game tape on mute.

Tami hasn't dropped the thread of their conversation, though. "I'm telling you, it's starting to drive me up a wall."

"Mmm," Eric says noncommittally from the couch.

"She's a smart girl," Tami points out. "She doesn't think of herself that way, but she's bright as hell." Carrot finished, it joins two others on the cutting board.

"Mmm," Eric says again.

"I just know she's capable of more than what she's actually doing."

This time he says "Hmm." It's an encouraging sound.

"I mean, we weren't in Dillon yet when her sister came through the high school." Tami shakes her head at the pile of lettuce in the salad spinner as though it could learn from Mindy's example. "But I've heard some horror stories, and you know she works at that strip club, and I just -- I think Tyra has potential to do something better with her life."

"Yes," Eric says, with conviction.

Tami spins the salad spinner, putting a little extra oomph into every twist of the handle on every adjective that comes out of her mouth. "She's smart, she's capable, she's--"

"Yes, yes, yes!" That last one is almost a shout. It is startlingly reminiscent of the way Eric talks to the television on Sundays when he's watching pro football. Or possibly when he's watching game tape and he's just figured out the answer to something that's been dogging him. She should've known.

Tami stops spinning the lettuce. The salad spinner keeps whirring. She puts her hands on her hips. "You aren't even listening to me, are you."

There's a pause, and then Eric -- apparently noticing that the sound of her voice has ceased -- clears his throat guiltily. "Not exactly. I'm sorry, hon."

"Save it," Tami says, rolling her eyes, and turns back to the carrots on the cutting board.

"You know we've got Arnett Mead on Friday, and I've been racking my brains to figure out how to get around their defense, and the thing is, I just saw a hole in their coverage--"

"Mmm," Tami says, and stops listening. What's good for the gander, right?

She does love him to distraction, even when he's being a pill, but that doesn't mean she actually gives a damn about the details of how his boys are going to whup Arnett Mead's tail.

How she's going to get Tyra Collette to start taking herself seriously. Now _that_ 's a question worth pondering.

### 3.

It's seven o'clock on a Tuesday morning. The school is quiet. Even the AP bio kids won't get here for half an hour.

Usually this is Tami's precious quiet time to herself. Today it's her time for sitting across her desk from Tyra while Tyra finishes a short response paper on Billy Budd, which was due last Monday, and for which Tami has negotiated an extension with Paul Greengrove... provided it's turned in by tomorrow.

Tyra pushes her hair back from her forehead with one hand and glares at her notebook.

"Trying to set it on fire with your eyes isn't actually gonna help," Tami points out. "You're almost done. One more page and you'll be all set."

Tyra slumps back in her chair. "You don't actually have to do this, Mrs. T."

"Hm?" Tami asks brightly. "Oh, it's no problem. I'm here anyway."

"I could finish this by myself tonight," Tyra offers, though it's clear from her tone that she knows Tami isn't going to agree to that.

"Just think how good it's gonna feel to have it finished before school starts today," Tami points out. "You can hand it in a day early."

"Great," Tyra says, without enthusiasm, and taps her pen against the paper a few times.

Tyra writes two more sentences, then scowls at the page again. "Are you one of those moms who thinks coffee's gonna stunt my growth?"

Tami's first response is to say yes, but she looks at Tyra and reconsiders. "I'm not generally in favor of giving coffee to high school kids," she admits, "but I think the time for stunting your growth is behind you."

Tyra's face brightens. "Y'all got milk and sugar in the faculty lounge?" she asks.

"You know we do." Tami pushes back from her desk. "I'll get some for both of us, but just this once. Don't expect this kind of treatment next time you're in here! This is just because it's early in the morning and I could use a cup myself."

"Uh-huh. Thanks, Mrs. T," Tyra says as Tami walks out of her office door.

Tami sticks her head back in to say "but you'd better have another paragraph on that page by the time I get back!"

"Yes ma'am," Tyra says, and turns her attention back to the task at hand.

Truth be told, Tami's looking forward to seeing Paul in the faculty lounge after Tyra turns this paper in. Even when she talked him into the extension, it was obvious he didn't actually think Tyra was going to do the work.

She's looking forward to watching Tyra prove him wrong.

### 4.

"I could just kick the University of Texas." Tami's pushing Gracie Belle in the stroller; Julie's walking beside them pushing the cart of groceries to the car.

"Why, what'd they do?" Julie's voice is wary. "Is Dad considering coaching college again? Because I have to remind y'all, it didn't work out so well last time."

Tami womanfully resists reminding Julie that part of the reason things 'didn't work out' last time was that Julie was unwilling to leave Matt Saracen in Dillon. "Nothing like that," she says instead. "They just put Tyra Collette on the waiting list, that's all. And with all of her extracurriculars, and the way she's worked to bring up her GPA, it's just -- ridiculous."

They've reached the car now, which Tami unlocks. She picks up Gracie out of the stroller; Julie starts loading bags into the trunk.

"That really bugs you," Julie says.

"Uh-huh," Tami agrees.

Julie stops moving groceries for a moment to look right at her mother. "Why's it so important to you?"

"That Tyra get into a decent college?"

"Yeah." Julie folds her arms across her chest, defensiveness in every line of her teenaged posture, and in a warm rush all of Tami's exasperation evaporates. This is the shadow side of working as a school counselor; sometimes it's hard for her own kid when she gets invested in somebody else's success.

"She reminds me of my teenaged self," Tami admits. She can see the surprise in Julie's eyes. Whatever Julie expected her to say, it wasn't that. "Before I met your dad. I was kind of a wild child."

Julie turns back to the grocery cart and bends down to get the boxes of diet coke from beneath the cart. "Do I remind you of yourself, too?" She's not looking at Tami and her voice is carefully noncommittal, but Tami can hear how much the question matters to her. How much it would bother her to think that Tami sees herself in Tyra but not in Julie.

"You remind me of the best part of my teenaged self," Tami says instantly. "The part of me that was good and kind -- "

Julie snorts. She's probably rolling her eyes under that fall of blond hair. Not that anyone could tell. Tami itches to push Julie's bangs out of her eyes at least a hundred times a day, but she doesn't reach over and do it. She could do that when Julie was three and four and even eight, with her little pageboy cut. She can't get away with it now.

"Don't scoff," Tami tells her, "I mean it. You remind me of the Tami Johnson who fell in love with Eric Taylor and knew we could make a life together." She's seen some of the same steady certainty in the way Julie looks at Matt. And it scares her, because she isn't ready for her little girl to be thinking that way -- but she can't deny that she sees it in Julie's face every time she and Matt are together.

Tami isn't sure which prospect is scarier: that Matt doesn't feel that way about Julie and is going to break her heart -- or that he's as committed and solid as Julie thinks he is, and he's going to take her away from them too soon.

Julie is uncharacteristically quiet in the car on the way home. Just before they pull into the driveway, she says "Thanks, Mom."

"Anytime," Tami says, and means it.

### 5.

The ceremony's been over for about ten minutes, and throngs are still milling around the Dillon High School gym. Tami's shaken a lot of hands and offered a lot of congratulations tonight. It's always a little bit bittersweet, saying goodbye to a crop of kids. And joyful, at the same time. Teaching is like parenthood. Raising them up and watching them walk away.

"Mrs. T!"

Tami turns and sure enough, there's Tyra in her Dillon-blue graduation gown, too short against her tanned calves. Beneath the shiny blue polyester Tami catches sight of a rhinestone anklet, painted toenails, open-toed yellow canvas mules. Julie has the same shoes.

"I'm so happy for you," Tami says, and Tyra beams. "C'mere."

Tyra hugs her with one arm. When she pulls back, Tami can see that she's still holding her bouquet in the crook of the other arm. All the girls walked down the graduation aisle with a dozen yellow roses. Yellow roses for Texas, of course, though Tami can't help seeing their tightly-curled buds as metaphors for all of these kids on the verge of unfolding into whoever they're about to become.

"Here," Tyra says, ducking her head a little bit, and pulls one of the roses out of the bouquet. "I wanted you to have one of these."

"Oh, Tyra!" Tami presses one hand to her heart, a little bit overcome. The tradition is for the girls to give the roses to the people who've meant the most to them. Usually graduating seniors give them to incoming seniors, or to younger girls. Julie has a couple of dried yellow roses in a bud vase on her vanity, gifts from older girls who've gone on to UT or A&M.

"I used to think just graduating from high school was gonna be a stretch," Tyra admits. "But you didn't let me get away with that."

"You're destined for greater things," Tami says. It's corny, but it's also true. She's convinced of that.

"I wouldn't be where I am if it weren't for you." Tyra holds out the rose and Tami takes it.

They hug again, and this time it's fierce. "I'm so proud of you," Tami murmurs into Tyra's hair.

In response, Tyra squeezes tighter, and Tami does too.

And then Tami takes a deep breath, and lets go.


End file.
